Chapter 23: Breaking Point

18-year-old Lucy sighed shakily, her hand tangling in her hair. She was reaching the part that she'd been dreading since she'd shown up here a couple of hours before. While she knew she had to write it all down, she found herself tempted to skip it. Even if it'd been three years ago, she still wanted to dig a hole and jump into it for the shame it still brought her.
But no. She couldn't skip even the slightest detail. It was simply too important to write down everything before...well, the time came.

Once again, the air was filled with muffled scratching noises: the sound of a quill against old paper.

I still can't believe how much I changed in the next two years. Almost nothing remained of Lucy Rivera, the sweet young girl who'd lost her world. Now, Melinda Black was in full dominence. The two were as different as yin and yang: while Lucy loved being in company, Melinda favored solitude over companionship. Lucy loved sweets, while Melinda despised them. The only thing that didn't change about me was my relationship with Pitch. He was the only person I let in. He was my mentor, my father, my everything. Even when I felt my heart slowly turn to ice, it never affected how I felt (or acted) towards the Boogeyman.
But the thing that stuck to me most - the one detail I can't forget - was the change one could see on the outside. Lucy's smile - my smile - had been open and happy.
But Melinda's had been cold as death.

Pitch Black lay in his bed, his eyes closed and his chest just barely rising and falling. The pale orange rays slowly retreated from his carpet as another day died. Even though he knew it was almost time to get up and spread nightmares, the Boogeyman didn't move. This had been going on for a little less than two years: instead of jumping out of bed and making a beeline for the Night Mare stables, he would remain immobile until he heard Melinda get ready. Then, he would force himself to move.

Why, do you ask? Why did he leave the warm, soft sheets of his bed and familiar shadows of his room? Especially since he was growing weaker and needed his rest?

Here's why: Melinda was totally ignorant of his state. She'd noticed the gloves and scarf he now wore and had asked him countless times, but he'd never told her. He did his best to be the same strong, confident dark creature that had taken her in. He asked her to cover more ground - and spread more nightmares without him - then before, but he'd refused to give her any explanations. All she knew for sure was that he was tiring a lot more easily than before.

After months of ceaselessly asking and probing, the girl had finally given up. For that, Pitch was relieved. The girl might have seemed stronger and tougher than before, but the Nightmare King could see through her armor as though it were glass. She had no one; only him. She depended on him and did everything she could for him. Pitch knew that seeing the thousands of cracks now covering his body would be enough to send Melinda plunging in despair.
He couldn't put her through that.

A soft tapping noise on his door pulled him out of his thoughts. "Knock, knock." A soft voice stated, "I know you can't eat, but I made you some jasmine tea anyway. I tried it last spring when we went to Hong Kong, and it was amazing."

"Ah, my little light..." Pitch turned so that his gold orbs were locked with Melinda's chestnut ones, "What a sight for sore eyes."
Melinda grinned that dark simper of hers, "Kssh." She really was a sight. She'd changed so much since she'd become his apprentice, it was like having a completely different person in front of him. While she was still a little on the short side (5'2), anyone could tell she wasn't a child. Her wavy russet hair reached her elbows, and the total lack of sunlight had turned her once-olive skin to a pasty color. She'd even begun to wear make-up: black-rimmed eyes and dark cherry lipstick. Her wardrobe was a strange mix of punk, goth, and tomboy.

Pitch liked the necklace resting on her collarbone the most. He'd gotten it for her on her fifteenth birthday a month ago. It was a dragon made of black pearls, with glittering topaz eyes. Its ivory teeth were as sharp as toothpicks, and it hung on a simple black chain around her neck. Whenever his sweet serpent was out of sight, Pitch used this very dragon to see her whereabouts, seeing the world through those gold eyes.

Melinda placed the mug of steaming tea on the nightstand and sat next to her mentor, "So, how're you feeling, Dad?"

Dad. Even after two years of hearing her say it, Pitch still felt a wave of tenderness for the girl. He chuckled lightly, "A little tired. But fine."

Melinda scoffed, a playful smile on her lips, "Yeah, right. You look like you were hit by a bus."

Pitch lightly smacked her head, "Don't question me, child. Give me ten minutes and I'll be right as rain."

"You had all day." Melinda countered, "What difference does another ten minutes make?"

Pitch sighed and rolled his eyes.

"You stay here for tonight." Melinda tucked her mentor in, "I'll do it."

Pitch arched a brow, "You must be joking."

"No, I'm not." Melinda snapped her fingers, and clothes morphed into the suit she wore on their excursions. It was the same outfit she'd worn on that fateful Halloween night, only slightly larger to accommodate her growing body. The snake skull - a real one now, stolen from some museum - rested on her head as she added, "I know you're starting to feel your age, and I'd rather you didn't walk on thin ice." Her expression softened, "I have Nyx, three pounds of Nightmare Sand, and my knife. Nothing will happen, I promise."

Pitch watched her for a long, seemingly endless moment. Even if she'd been inexperienced and unlucky the night she'd encountered Molly, Pitch had never forgotten that she'd been wounded. Even if he'd seen her tear his Fearlings apart (as part of her training), who's to say she'd be completely free of danger? He had many enemies, many spiteful immortals whom he'd tormented in life or whose family he'd taken. They could very well discover the connection between him and Melinda and take it out on her.
But, all things considered, Melinda had to learn to do this by herself. His time was running out, and it was best that she got used to going alone.

Finally, he nodded, "Very well."

Melinda brightened, and she almost looked like her younger self again. "Yes!" She cheered, tucking her dagger in her belt, "See you later, Dad!" As she turned around to leave, however, a black tentacle grabbed her by the waist and pulled her back.

"Not so fast," Pitch scolded her, "First, recite the rules."

Melinda had to bite her lips to supress a groan. Even though she understood how vital these rules were, reciting them was a drag. It annoyed her almost as much as the Pledge of Allegiance bothered other kids.

"Well?" Pitch asked, clearly expecting her to talk.

She sighed, "Be back by the crack of dawn. No exceptions."

"Good. Next."

"Don't talk to anyone, especially an adult. I'm not an immortal yet; anyone can see me unless I stick to the shadows."

"Yes. Next."

"No serious nightmares." Melinda concluded, "Nothing that people would consider abnormal. Just plain old nightmares, and only pick a few people."

Pitch smiled and stroked her hair. Such a display of affection was rare for the Nightmare King, so Melinda treasured it. "That's my girl." He purred, "Now, run along. The night is young."

Melinda beamed, "Yessir." She leaned forward and kissed Pitch's cheekbone like a daughter going off to school. Pulling the serpent's skull over her face, she ran out of the room.

"Yeah! Woooo!" Melinda cheered as her Night Mare, Nyx, glided through the night air with an eel's grace. She wouldn't trade this feeling for anything in the universe: the cold wind streaming through her hair, the distant rumbles of thunder, and the blackness that sank into her skin like humidity. Oh, how she'd come to love the darkness!

The city lights of her first town, Denver, twinkled thousands of feet below, and the full moon was blocked by clouds as thick and black as coal dust.
Good. The Man in the Moon, from what Melinda had understood, was like the guardians' watchdog. From his place in the sky, he could always see Pitch slinking about; especially at nighttime, the only time the Boogeyman could go out without getting burned.
Very clever.

Over the years, Melinda had been allowed to venture outside of North America. Now, she was permitted to go to Mexico, South America, and even a few European countries! Pitch's Night Mares travelled everywhere else, but Melinda was always sure to leave no stone unturned, so to speak.
She'd even found the perfect way of spreading fear through a city without moving around too much.

Quieting down to avoid awakening someone, Melinda steered Nyx to the roof of a house. Once the horse's black, shining hooves clattered on the concrete, Melinda dismounted her and stroked her nose. "Good girl." She murmured, giving the horse a treat: a plump, dark purple belladonna berry. She'd discovered some time ago that these obsidian beasts actually loved poisonous fruits. It had surprised her to no end, but at least it saved her and Pitch the trouble of buying sugar cubes and apples.

Nyx devoured the berry greedily, spilling some juice on the concrete. Melinda rolled her eyes, "Gluttonous animal. But at least you're fast." With that, she shifted her gaze to the night sky, waiting.

She didn't have to wait long. By the time all the windows were dark, gold streams of dream sand appeared from the heavens, illuminating the night like lanterns. A thick vein of it soared past Melinda. Before she could stop herself, she touched it lightly, with one fingertip. Tiny gold snakes emerged from within and swam through the air like fish in water. Melinda cracked a tiny smile as the small, luminescent snakes danced before vanishing. She turned back to the showers of gold sand, watching as they entered every window and formed a dream over a sleeping person's head.

Finally, the streams dissolved. That was Melinda's cue.

"Here we go," She reached into the gourd hanging from her belt, filling her palm with black sand. With a small, grunt, she tossed the handful into the air. The sand glittered in the air like dark stars before taking on the shapes of sparrows no bigger than Melinda's thumb. The girl grinned and threw another handful above her head. Another tiny army of black sparrows formed in the air, beating their wings incessantly. Melinda did a quick head-count. A hundred and six, each one capable of turning a dream into a nightmare by entering the golden sand.

A hundred and six nightmares out of 2,100,263 sleeping people? Sounded fair enough.

"Go," She waved her hand, "And be sure to visit adults as well as children."

Her command was greeted with a chorus of high-pitched chirps. Then, the sparrows skirted into the air.

The corner of Melinda's mouth went up. Mission accomplished. One city down, over 25,000 to go.

She mounted Nyx and combed her mane, "C'mon, girl. Time waits for no one."

Nyx whinnied (in agreement?) and leapt into the sky.

For the rest of the night, Melinda spread nightmares using her birds. She found it got the job done at an unbelievably rapid rate (she knew the sparrows had entered dreams when one sparrow returned to her), and she didn't have to worry about being seen. Even if she was occasionally spotted, she had a snake's skull that covered three-quarters of her face and a hood that concealed her hair. She was as safe as can be.

Stopping only to snap shots of Paris, Berlin, and Rome, Melinda managed to fulfill her mission a couple of hours before daybreak. The only town left on her radar was Burgess.

Melinda hesitated as she wrapped the reins around her clawed, gloved hands. Why did she always save Burgess for last? Did she enjoy going to larger, more lively locations more? Or was she simply cowering from her past? Whatever the reason, she always waited until there were no other places to visit.

She sighed to herself, pinching the bridge of her nose. Another habit she'd picked up from Pitch.
"Melinda, you spineless coward." She muttered to herself, "Might as well get this over with."
Blocking all thoughts from her consciousness, she yanked on the reins, "Yaah!" Nyx neighed and flew towards Burgess.

They arrived minutes later thanks to the Night Mare's unbeatable speed. Melinda stared at her feet as she used the last of her Nightmare Sand to send the sparrows on their journey. She couldn't look at this...this ghost town. Yes, it was still as alive and beating as a human heart, but everywhere she looked, she was haunted by a memory.
The coffee shop, where she'd first tasted caffeine at seven.
The bookstore, where she'd spent many delightful afternoons lost in a good book.
The park, where she'd been engaged in many a snowball fight with Jamie and Jack.

The scars. They were being stretched. More pressure and they'd probably rip open.

Well, she'd have to avoid that. Swallowing hard, she made Nyx land on the first house she saw; it was just outside of town, which suited Melinda just fine. At least she'd be spared from actually seeing the town. She wouldn't have to hear her former classmates' whimpers and ragged pants. She wouldn't have to watch her Nightmare Sparrows frollock into the homes she was familiar with, intending to turn the resident's dream into a nightmare.

Coward.

She quickly sent her birds on their way, studying her boots as their shrill cries faded. When they were finally gone, Melinda sighed and finally allowed herself to look up. All she had to do was wait for one sparrow to make it back.

'Just a few minutes,' she told herself, 'Just a few minutes and it'll all be over.'

A door creaked open below her. She gasped and retreated away from the edge, making sure nobody could see her. Nyx noticed her mistress's distress and neighed, but Melinda hushed her. She cocked her head, listening as a woman's voice muttered, "I'll get more flowers for you soon."
Then, she whispered a prayer. Melinda listened, unable to turn a deaf ear. Even before becoming Pitch's apprentice, she'd never been a frequent flier in church. But the prayers had still sounded nice. Checking to make sure her skull mask was in place, Melinda inched closer to the edge. Finally, she allowed herself to look.

A woman that appeared to be in her fifties finished the prayer by crossing herself. Melinda frowned, peering closer. The woman felt...familiar, somehow. She was rather overweight, with skin of an earthy tone and a short stature. Her wavy hair looked like it might have been black once, but was now streaked with gray and white. Her face bore several lines, but Melinda could tell that she must've been beautiful once.

The woman sighed and retreated in the house, closing the door behind her.

Curiousity gripping her, Melinda began to descend to the ground. Nyx whinnied and took a mouthful of Melinda's cloak, but the girl ripped it back. "Don't get your knickers in a knot!" She hissed through clenched teeth, "I'm just gonna look. I'll be back up before the lady even notices." Nyx whinnied again, but this time, Melinda ignored her and hopped to the ground.

She eyed the wall. A long, elaborate prayer was carved into the wall, but it was written in such an old-styled English, Melinda could hardly understand it. At the bottom, the woman had placed a bouquet of deep blue and purple irises. Melinda couldn't help smile. Irises were her favorite flowers. What a coincedence.

When she checked the very bottom of the wall, though, Melinda felt as though someone had ripped her heart out.

Two little words stared at her.

Lucy Rivera

Melinda was so shocked she almost stumbled over her own feet. That prayer...it'd been a prayer for her. With a jolt, the girl realized who that woman must have been.

Her aunt Violet. After five years, she was still waiting for the neice that would never return.

Melinda felt something clog her throat, and hot, salty tears filled her eyes. She'd never even considered how her family would take her departure. She'd been so afraid of Marco telling them her secret...she'd never thought that they'd still care. By now, they must've thought that she was dead, or working in some town far away.

The guilt curled around her stomach like a frosted coil. She'd...she'd totally abandoned them. Melinda had been so convinced that, if her uncle and aunt had known of her role in her parents' demise, they'd have thrown her out like a broken glass. If she'd known how much her aunt had cared about her...and loved her...she might have stayed. She wouldn't have powers, a purpose, or a father right now. Or maybe she would have stopped by every now and then to see if her family needed medicine, money, anything at all.

For a second, Melinda was tempted to knock on the door and rekindle with her aunt. The two could embrace, laugh, and cry together. But how could she explain her outfit? The sand she now utilized? The Night Mare standing on the roof? How could she explain where she'd been - and what she'd been doing - for the past five years? It would be too much for Aunt Violet to take. Without wanting to, Melinda would shatter the woman's world. It was best to let her father's sister live out her last few years in peace.

Melinda broke into a run. She climbed up the wall and mounted Nyx, not caring if the little black sparrow hadn't returned yet. She kicked Nyx's sides hard enough to leave bruises, "Go. Go, dammit! GO!"

Nyx flew into the sky, taking her rider away from the people she'd hurt and the life she'd abandoned. The house shrank to the size of a button before disappearing in the trees.
The Night Mare began its return to the Realm. Melinda cried brokenly in the horse's mane.

Pitch winced as pieces of his chest fell on the black sheets. With a frustrated growl, he threw the book across the room.

"Damn," He cursed under his breath, "I have tried nearly every incantation I own. If anything, it's merely made things worse!"

He looked at his body hatefully, almost wishing it wasn't his. Cracks covered his arms and chest, and his hands were nearly completely shattered. A couple of splinters were beginning to appear in his torso, too.

It really was happening. He'd chosen to ignore it for two years, but now he was looking at the damage head-on, and he despised what he was seeing. At this rate, he'd be dead by next fall.

Why, oh why did Tsar have to let this happen to him? Didn't that fool understand that fear protects, that it helps children more than toys and eggs and snow did? Or did he really believe that Pitch was deserving of this fate; to die in the shadows like a broken rag doll?

A sound that was neither a gasp or a sob made him stop. Slowly, Pitch turned around.

Melinda was standing there, her mask in her hands and drying tearstains on her cheeks. Her mouth was open in a silent scream as she took in the gruesome sight - the injuries he'd been hiding from her. More tears streamed down her face as she took in the wounds...and the promise that they brought.

That Pitch would die. The only person she had in the world was going to die.

Pitch knew it was futile, but he reached for her with a gloved hand, "Melin-"

The girl ran out of the room before he could get any closer. He could hear her wails throughout the Realm, as though the cave itself was crying.